My heart began beating faster when I saw my house hunched in the corner, as if it were turning its back to the harsh wind. I ran down the driveway but came to a halt when I stumbled over a bowl on the porch. Grumbling, I kicked it to the side violently.
I heard the door creak open. I turned around slowly, grinning sheepishly. She stood at the entrance of the door with her arms crossed, glaring at me accusingly.
We stared at each other for a while as I waited for her to let me inside. After moments of guilty silence, I sighed. “I'm sorry.” I grumbled, defensively, pushing my way past her into the empty room. “Chandra didn't let me leave. He thinks I'm the only man who can add and subtract in the whole office, he doesn't trust anyone else with the accounts.”
I shuddered, turning to scowl at her. “Close the door, won't you? It's cold.” I snapped. She just sat there, staring at me, her black hair radiating like the velvet of the night sky, even in the dim light of the porch. “Fine, I'll do it,” I said, stomping back towards her to slam the door shut.
“So as I was saying, I spent all day counting numbers. What did you do all day?” She got up and made her way to the sofa, sitting herself down with a big huff. “Silent treatment, eh?” I chided. “Fine, be that way.”
I pulled my jacket off to hang it in the closet and a shiver ran down my spine. “It's so cold in here, can't you ever turn the heater on?” I said, rubbing my palms together, trying to warm them. This time, she wasn't even looking at me. Instead, she was staring at the newspaper spread out on the table.
“You could at least pretend more convincingly,” I muttered leaving her in the living room to sulk as I headed to the kitchen like an express. The kitchen was where the switch to the central heater was and all the food, it was my promise land.
My back was turned to the door when I was working on the switch to the heater but I heard her enter. The gentle taps of her feet on the floor boards were something I could recognize anywhere. They were the gentle taps that accompanied me when I had to work late into the night and reassured me when I had to sleep after watching a horror movie.
“Are you hungry?” I asked her, pulling a pan out from one of the shelves above my head. “I know I am. I'm making some coffee, would you like some?”
She stared back unblinkingly at me. She never talked much. I always thought she didn't need to, her eyes had a language of their own. When I looked back to the first day I met her, I think it was her eyes that made me fall in love with her. She hadn't said a word, but the way she looked at me, I felt like she knew me better than anyone ever had. She was sitting in the far corner of the office and was attracting an unusual amount of attention from the other employees.
It was almost like fighting other lions to get to her, but I did. I won her, or rather, she let me win her. She wasn't someone you could “win.” She was someone who could choose. And she chose me.
She had always been rather proud, sauntering about with her head in the air and throwing tantrums at the slightest prompt. Sometimes I wondered how I put up with her. Coming home to someone who was openly loving would do me some good on tiring days like these, but I wouldn't replace her for the most caring woman in the world.
I shook my head, realizing I had been staring into her eyes for a long time. “I'll give you some coffee then, just the way you like it,” I said, smiling at her meekly. Being egoistic would never work with her. Whatever mistake it was that I had made this time, I just had to admit to and redeem myself for if I wanted her to ever forgive me.
I sat down as the milk boiled, pressing my eyes down with my fists. There was so much work to do tomorrow and I was worried I wouldn't be able to reach Chandra's deadline. He would kill me, he was already fairly angry with me for always turning up at work late. It wasn't my fault though, when he made me work so late into the night. I never had any time for her, no wonder she was so angry.
I felt warm lips brush against my cheek. I opened my eyes to see she was standing beside me, brushing herself against my cheek gently, calming me down the only way she knew how. I turned around and hugged her tightly, pulling her small frame against my chest. She was warm, much warmer than the room was, eve with the heater turned on at its highest.
She didn't say a word, she never did. But she managed to make me feel better than any combination of words ever could. The buzzer went off, startling her. She jumped away, glaring at me again.
“I'm sorry,” I muttered, pushing myself up to switch the stove off. I took the milk and poured it from one cup to another, cooling it to the temperature that she liked. She stood there watching me like a hawk. She stood as proudly as she did when I first met her, but there was white hair creeping onto her head now. She looked like a wise, old Queen and I felt as out of place as I did ten years back, when she was a perky, intelligent Princess.
She was the most beautiful thing on the planet. I could spend hours staring at her, taking everything her in and my thirst would still not be quenched. She grunted disapprovingly at the amount of time I was taking, snapping me out of my daze.
Rolling my eyes, I poured the milk into a bowl. I bent down and pushed the bowl towards her. “I love you, you know that?” I said. She looked at me, then wordlessly, got up, shook herself off and began lapping the milk up.
-Shikha Sreenivas
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